


Dramatist! Thy Name is Hart!

by solarift



Series: Family Matters [1]
Category: Bridget Jones's Diary - All Media Types, Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Crossover, Family Feels, Family Hilarity, Fanart, Fanart/Manip accompanied fic, For anyone that needs a little laugh :D, Gen, Harry Hart and Mark Darcy are twins, Harry Hart is a Little Shit, Hart Twins, Hartwin Feels, M/M, Manip/Fanart, Mark Darcy can also be a Little Shit, Mark knows Harry is a spy, Pre-relationship hartwin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-13 09:19:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7971517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solarift/pseuds/solarift
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That one fic where Harry Hart has his hands full being Arthur but drops everything when the news of his mother’s advancing illness comes by way of his father one afternoon. </p><p>Harry rushes back to his childhood home, Eggsy in tow as he refuses to leave Harry’s side only to find out that his mother is not only alive and healthy (thank God) but his twin brother Mark is also in attendance! He soon finds out that his mother and father were behind the farce in an effort to get both their boys within the same hemisphere to celebrate something special!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dramatist! Thy Name is Hart!

**Author's Note:**

> Happened because of this [ficlet + manip](http://solarrift.tumblr.com/post/147636498362/solarrift-note-been-bitten-by-the-mark-darcy) thing I did. Not beta'd or Brit picked.
> 
> Also, I'm not into Bridget bashing (it's fine if you don't like her, I'm not judging so please don't judge me?), so if you can't handle two very brief lines of her being mentioned (in a positive way) then maybe don't read. Thanks! I hope you enjoy if you do read!

The news came rather abruptly one day, just as he was settling in to a couple months of his ascension to Arthur’s seat.

He had his hands full as the leader of Kingsman. And while he was still not quite sure what kind of special hell was reserved for Merlin for talking him into it in the first place, Harry was quite certain that he had already entered his own, if only based upon the amount of paperwork he had to accomplish every day. If that hadn’t been enough he was also required to go over each mission the moment they finished where he would have to review everything in explicit detail, from video footage to alias covers to hotel bookings.

Everything had to be squared away, sent to Merlin to go over (or give to someone else to go over) and then sent _back_ to Harry to look over AGAIN and sign off on before debriefing about the whole thing with the agent that completed it!

But this headache is a whole other subject next to what Harry will forever refer to as the Con of the Century.

It’s on a day like any other- full of paperwork, Harry cursing Merlin six ways from Sunday and needing a distraction- when he immediately and unceremoniously drops everything after a few moments listening to the voice message his father left on his mobile earlier. Harry’s heart hammers in his chest as he grabs his glasses, overcoat and other knickknacks he might need as he contacts Merlin that he’ll be out of the office for a few days on urgent business.

When pressed before he can escape the tube, Harry simply states he’d just heard the news of his mother’s advancing illness, and that his father requests him home immediately.

He makes it to his cab, throws his to-go bag into the trunk and informs Elyan of the directions. It’s when he opens the door and sits that he realizes it’s Eggsy in the driver’s seat.

“Eggsy- what on earth-”

“Buckle up, Haz, we’re on a bit of a time constraint,” is all the warning he gives before shifting into gear and taking off.

Harry can’t even find the words to half-heartedly chastise him when all he can feel is a warmth spread through his chest.

Everything since hearing his father’s message has seemed fastforwarded, and suddenly Eggsy and he are boarding the jet, taking off and landing.

A driver picks them up, already informed by Kingsman HQ of where he needed to go.

And then suddenly they’re arriving at his childhood home, Eggsy still in tow as he refuses to leave Harry’s side (“It’s your _mum_ , Harry; that shit’s not easy on no one!”) only for Harry to step out of their cab at 212 Pickledlilly Drive and see that his estranged twin brother had just arrived as well.

The two remain as they are when their eyes catch- Mark stuck with his hands adjusting his tie and Harry partially out of the cab- and continue to stare at one another so long that Eggsy has to push at the back of Harry’s hips to get out.

“What’s the problem, bruv- _Oh_ , hey Mark,” Eggsy greets when he notices why exactly Harry’s stopped, rolling his eyes as he goes over to shake Mark’s hand.

“Good afternoon, Eggsy,” Mark says with that warm, full-faced smile of his. The smile, however, cannot be won out by the sheer intensity of his brother’s piercing stare. “ _Harry_ ,” Mark tacks on the other man’s name in cordial greeting.

Harry remains silent as he walks forward, tugs Eggsy’s elbow in a rather juvenile fashion of ‘mine!’ to get the other to follow, before they walk past the only obstacle that has proven to slow Harry’s pace to get here from London.

As they pass Mark, Harry’s eyes narrow in suspicion and reprimand.

“You can’t possibly think- Of _course_ you can,” Mark sighs, zeroing in on Harry’s thoughts as only a twin could. Harry came to a standstill in front of him before turning to regard his un-bespecaled sibling. Mark simply sighs, calmly following the unspoken accusation with his own defense. “I too was just as much in the dark about mother’s condition as you were and hurried over the moment father called.” Marks eyes raise heavenward as if pleading for strength. “However, it would seem that we’ve _both_ been duped into making this trip.”

“Come out with it then already, Mark. I don’t particularly have the patience to deal with your games while our mother is in there, bedridden and-”

“Oh, enough of your dramatics, please,” Mark says dryly. “To put it simply; we’ve played right into this con of theirs, and despite your rather biased assumptions of me, I too had been fooled until I saw the front door when I arrived moments ago,” he nodded toward the porch.

Eggsy noted that it was almost like a moment from a movie where the hero slowly turns to see the big bad, only to then go on to the adverts before ending for the season as Harry slowly turned his head around to face his childhood home.

His shoulders went rigid as he first caught sight of the wretched thing his parents had proudly displayed for all the world to see since either Mark or he could walk.

“Bloody hell,” he cursed, his voice turning hard. "I thought I’d _burned that thing_ when we were eleven.”

"You've only just noticed it now?" Mark scoffed in disbelief under his breath. “And of course you’re the one that became a bloody spy master. Ridiculous."

The sign to the side of the quaint home’s entrance read proudly: HOME OF THE TWIN TERRORS, THE HARTS.

A choked off sound came from behind Harry, whose face paled not a moment later.

 _Shit_ , Harry cursed, suddenly reminded that he had Eggsy of all people with him- No, absolutely _not_. The younger man _could not_ be allowed to even set eyes upon that ghastly-

It was too late as Harry felt another abrupt but quickly muffled sound escape Eggsy’s esophagus. Harry turned to initially glare at his brother and caught sight of Eggsy pressing his lips together despite his gasping breath in his silent fit of chuckles.

“I strongly advise you not comment on anything you’ve just heard or witnessed, Galahad.”

Eggsy wave his hands outward in mock-surrender as Harry turned, glared once more and stormed forward in a way only befitting one that had been academically trained to be an actor and had instead become a spy.

Mark followed at a much more sedate pace, sending Eggsy a sidelong _‘what can you do’_ face before he too entered their childhood home.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“So, your illegitimate child was correct in assuming you’d finagled us into yet another one of your schemes,” Harry said, regarding his aging parents- happy and healthy as you please- standing in the living area.

Eggsy snorted from the doorway. Christ, but Merlin was right when he said Harry got dramatic when his family was involved.

“Oh? I’m the illegitimate one now, am I?” Mark mumbled as he went to stand next to Harry, smiling pleasantly as he mocked his brother’s crude statement. “In any event: as they say, the jig is up. Good evening, mother,” he greeted the elder woman with a kiss to her cheek as she moved in to hold Mark’s face between hers hands, cooing over how handsome he’d become since he’d last visited.

The elder man - who Eggsy could only assume was the Hart patriarch- came to stand before Harry and grasped either shoulder as Harry acted all but the blessed child his brother seemed to think him. Petulant was probably a closer description.

“Henry…” his mother moved on to greet Harry in a big, though not one-sided, Eggsy noted, hug. “You look… _well_.” She patted on the pressed fabric of his suit jacket before glancing back up to his face. “Severe as usual. Oh, your _hair_. Sweetheart, why must you always plaster it down with that congealed green gundge?”

“Pomade, mother,” Harry stressed.

And _good God_ was that not the single cutest thing Eggsy had ever seen in his life? Petulant with a slight whinge to his otherwise impeccable tone? Never before would Eggsy have thought the fifty-two year old man could be reduced to such a state, and by a woman nearly a foot shorter than he!

“Yes, yes,” the woman relented, boofing his chin like he was a naughty five year old, and scoffing much like Mark had earlier before turning to Eggsy. “And who might you be, darling?” she asked kindly as she clasped Eggsy’s hands in hers as if they were long lost girl friends.

And _dear God, this was Harry’s mother!_ Eggsy’s heart pounded beneath his ribs, eyes wide and not at all prepared to be meeting Harry’s parents so early in their… ahem,currently non-romantic, really non-anything-relationship…  and instead sort of just stood there, like he was tied to the rails as an oncoming train howled it’s nearing proximity to smashing his body to pieces and-!.

“This, mother, is Eggsy Unwin,” Mark spoke up from the other side of the room. “Eggsy, this is our mother, Sharon Hart.”

“I- uh,” Eggsy coughed as he choked on his own tongue in mortification at his own lack of etiquette. “I- I mean, it’s a pleasure ma’am, I’m Gary- I mean, I’m Eg- well, my _legal name_ is Gary but I like to be called Eggsy and- And he- uh, well, your son- already said that, didn’t he? Heh-”

“ _Oh_ , he’s precious, Mark! Eggsy, was it? It’s so very nice to meet you!” she cries out as she suddenly embraces Eggsy in a hug only a mother could give. She pulled back just as suddenly as she regarded him and then Mark curiously. “But I thought you were with Bridget- Mark, I’d have thought you’d’ve told me you were seeing someone new, and such an attractive young man no less!” she smiled devilishly at Eggsy then that rather made his knees weak. He gulped. Shit, like mother like sons, apparently.

“I-! _No_ \- that’s not- Mother, please-” Mark sputtered rather reservedly, nearly dropping his coat and briefcase- and somehow almost losing against gravity- as he turned pink in the cheeks.

“Please, as if Eggsy would look at someone like Mark _twice_ ,” Harry said coolly, coming to stand next to Eggsy. And when Harry’s hand came to rest on Eggsy’s lower back he suddenly felt less panicked. “This one, mother, is mine.”

And then Harry had to go and say _that_.

Dead silence overtook the conversation after Harry’s declaration as Eggsy turned a bright fire engine red. Because, _bloody hell_ , Harry and he weren’t a couple! Were they? They hadn’t even had a proper moment alone since Harry came back from Kentucky with a bandage fixed over his temple and a twitch in his arm, let alone a moment of declaration of intentions! Shit, did that mean Harry knew how he felt? Was he just making fun of- 

Eggsy turned to look at Harry but quickly kept his thoughts to himself as he saw Harry too had turned a bright color to rival his own.

“Lovely!” Mrs. Hart declared with a sharp clap of hands. “Bill, introduce yourself and get them a snack. I’ll get the accommodations ready; you’ve all traveled such a long way to get here!” with that Mrs. Hart nearly skipped out the way they entered.

“Right, well. I’m William Darcy- call me Bill, please. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Eggsy,” the man with the kind smile, much like Harry’s, says gently.

“It’s nice to meet you, uh, Bill,” Eggsy greeted before his brows scrunched together. “Uh, wait, you’re not… Mr. Hart?”

“Heavens, no! My wife and I kept our own surnames after we married. It’s why the boys have differing last names, you see,” Bill explained as he rummaged around the cabinets in the kitchen for snacks, supposedly.

Eggsy turned a confused look at the brothers. Mark shrugged. “We’re not entirely sure we understand it ourselves, but it’s always been Henry Hart and Marcus Darcy.”

“Yeah, I guess it’s kind of hard to picture you as Mark Hart,” Eggsy chuckled.

Harry didn’t respond as he was busy studying a set of pictures in the living area above the fireplace. “So this is why you keep requesting photographs every Christmas,” he said raising an uninterested brow at his father.

“Mhm. That’s only the last two years, mind. The preceding years are all along the back staircase and down the third floor corridors.” Bill turned to Eggsy, grinning. “Their mum likes to take people that visit on tours, you see. And they should not only see the house chronologically-we’ve added a few new rooms since the boys moved out- but she says their guests should also be privy of our children’s ascent from little terror monsters to full-fledged men of less questionable morality. Whatever that means.”

“Uh, I’d wager, basically that they get into less mischief?” Eggsy supplied, cocking an amused eyebrow over at Harry. So not true.

Harry snorted. “Less mischief, indeed.”

“Well, at least you’re not getting into any trouble you can’t get yourselves out of, in any case,” Bill relented dryly. “Your mother and I won’t be around forever, you know.”

“Yes, that happens to be the reason we traveled all this way. One that doesn’t seem to be panning out apparently-” Harry coughed the end of his comment out as Eggsy jabbed him in the side.

“ _Harry!_ ” he hissed.

Bill simply chuckled loudly. “Oh, it’s alright, Eggsy. Henry’s always been a little shit, where do you think he got it from!” Bill stated proudly, clapping his son on the back in approval.

“Why did you lie and have us come all this way if you knew we’d find out eventually?” Mark inquired. “Mother’s not really sick, is she?” 

It was Bill’s turn to go from jovial to bashful in a split second as he rubbed at the back of his neck. “Well, you see, it’s our 50th wedding anniversary tomorrow, and we wanted you boys to be a part of it.”

“Yes, but good luck getting those two chuckleheads on the same continent, let alone back to their hometown for the occasion,” Sharon’s voice piped up from upstairs. “And after I was in labor with the two of you for over thirty-six hours!” 

Mark’s brow furrowed as he looked over at Harry, muttering, “I thought it was forty-two?” 

Harry rolled his eyes. “She changes it every time,” he began explaining to Eggsy. “It’s higher when she’s aggravated with us and less when she simply wants an answer to something mundane.”

“I heard that!” their mother’s voice hollered again.

“Biscuit, Eggsy?” Bill offered as his boys and wife reverted back to the 1970s and had a rather heated conversation between floors.

“Yes, please. Thank you, Bill.”

They sat in silence, listening in avidly and without shame as Mark and Harry made exasperated faces at one another, temporarily forgetting their decade long disagreement apparently, before falling back into sync and banding together as only twins could do. It was like watching the rowdiest tennis match at Wimbledon, as mother vs sons took turns snapping pithy comments at one another.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

“So, wait, Harry’s middle name _is_ Harry?”

Bill’s eyes shine with mirth as Harry sighs dejectedly.

“What, you don’t like your first name?”

“They named him after Henry Higgins; it was the play our parents met at if I’m remembering correctly.”

“Actually it’s the play you were both conceived at, but-”

“ _Must_ you?” Harry doesn’t even have the energy to roll his eyes as he slouches against the chair in a very un-Harry like manner as Bill pretended to think about seriously considering acquiescing to the request. 

At least for about two seconds, that is, before he immediately snarked back. “Yes. I’m your father, it’s my duty.”

Eggsy laughed. “And what about Mark?”

“Mark was given the middle name Fitzwilliam.”

Eggsy made a face as Mark tutted and sipped at his tea. “After the great Mr. Darcy himself.”

“Okay, _that_ is pretty sick, bruv.”

“Supper’s ready! Eggsy, come help me in the kitchen while our men set the table,” Sharon called from the kitchen.

“Coming, Mrs. Hart!”

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

“Uh, so… you didn’t tell her we wasn’t a couple then, I’m guessin’.” Eggsy stared at the very much full-sized, single bed taunting him from near the center of the room.

Harry coughed into his hand. “It would appear to have slipped my mind,” Harry said with hesitation. “Eggsy, if this makes you uncomfortable, truly, we can still keep the reservations at the hotel-“

“Hotel? Nonsense! What hotel would offer bed _and_ breakfast?” Sharon said suddenly from the doorway.

Harry had the good grace (as he learned his lesson earlier) of not outright bemoaning his mother’s sudden presence and said dryly, “All of them, mother.”

Sharon made a derisive noise. “Well, I doubt they have a setup as great as ours-“

“The hotel we were supposed to be staying at had a lounge and spa; and I know for a fact that Eggsy was rather looking forward to having a dip in the pool.”

Eggsy shrugged, blushing. He kinda had…

Sharon’s eyes brightened. “Oh! Well, we have a pool!”

“You do?” Harry asked, surprised and a little bit weary.

“You do?!” Eggsy said at the same time excitedly.

“Yes, come with me!”

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Harry stared, face flat and brow twitching.

“You truly are a Darcy through and through, Henry; look at that vein throb in his temple, Eggsy! Both my boys got that from my side of the family,” Bill said proudly, partly in fun and partly… well actually, Eggsy was pretty sure Bill was serious about the proud part. 

“If that comes from your side what’d Harry get from Mrs.- sorry, Sharon’s side?” Eggsy asked eagerly. 

“Whatever he’s about to say you can’t believe, Eggsy. Ever,” Harry managed to get out first. “That’s an _order_ ,” he added rather desperately. 

“Uh huh,” Eggsy said, unimpressed. 

“It’s quite obvious if you think about it-” Mark started absently as he placed his Rook in front of his mother’s Queen, taking the piece with a curl of lips that reminded Eggsy so much of Harry’s smug smile. 

“ _Mark_ ,” Harry warned. 

“Go on, give it a guess there, Eggsy,” Mark prompted, eyes still concentrated on the chess board.

“Uh.. His habit of being late all the time?” Eggsy tried, wondering aloud. 

“Heavens, Henry! You’re still late to everything?” Sharon gasped. “Weren’t you promoted to … what is it, CEO of your tailors?” 

“Quite,” Harry said, face flat, just knowing his last shred of dignity was about to be stripped away right before Eggsy’s very eyes. “I’ve a lot to do, mother. It’s not easy handling the staff I have, never mind overseeing their assignments and-” 

“Henry’s always been a bit controlling, you see,” Bill began in a not-so-hushed manner, grinning conspiratorially with Eggsy. “Thankfully by the time he was eleven he outgrew demanding- out loud, mind- that everyone do as he say. Unfortunately, that side of him evolved into him somehow mastering either of his grandfathers’ severe and unimpressed glares; my father could send the fear of God into men with a single narrowed look. And Sherri’s father was able to stare so flatly and unimpressed-like that they’d get so uncomfortable around him and just do what he asked. To this day I’ll bet Henry’s face goes impassive when he’s faced with ill-mannered customers that come in and treat his staff poorly, am I right?”

Harry glared hard over at his father.Though this was the ‘severe’ look apparently. 

“See what I mean! And don’t think that’ll work on me, boy. I’m immune; you put up with it for so long and you can’t help but adapt.”

Eggsy laughed then and much of the tension in Harry seemed to melt away from his body.

“In any event, I assume, being in the sort of relationship you two are, that you are well acquainted with many if not all of Henry’s theatrics, yes?” 

Eggsy’s eyes go wide and his face lights up in pure elation. “Oh, that’s not just a Harry thing then?”

“Of course not, dear child,” Sharon said, sitting up straighter, her tone changing somewhat posher. “I was to be an actress, a rising star, when I found out I was pregnant with Henry. That dream of course, wasn’t to be realized, I’m afraid-“ 

“A fact which she’s never let me live a day without reminding me of, I’ll assure you,” Harry says, dodging his mother’s narrowed eyes with all the practiced ease of a man with a twenty-something spy career under his belt. 

“That actually makes a lot more sense now,” Eggsy laughed heartily. “When I first met Harry he kind of beat up a bunch of punks when-“ Eggsy trailed off, eyes wide as the other pairs around the room widened and shot over to Harry. “Uh…” 

Harry was the first to react. 

“He means verbally, of course. You know how I hate getting my hands messy,” Harry said, sending a warning glare that he really didn’t need to over at a smirking Eggsy. 

“You verbally beat up a bunch of-“ 

“Punks, riffraff,” Harry supplied a variety of terms he’d use when referring to the horrible little cretins. “And I was merely teaching them manners.” 

Mark snorted, covering it up rather poorly with a series of coughs. “Ahem, excuse me.” 

“What on earth could they have said for you to lose your temper? Henry, really, that’s not how we taught you-” Bill began before his wife could make a fuss. 

Harry wasn’t quite sure how to word it delicately so they wouldn’t- 

And then Eggsy spoke up, nonchalant as you please. 

“Some guys I’ve grown up with that hate me and pick on anyone and everyone where we grew up. They basically called me a rent boy and told Harry where to go to pick up a new one.”

Sharon gasped and Bill snapped his mouth shut as he turned red. The Hart matriarch flew over to Eggsy, clutching him and petting the side of his head as any mother figure protecting her young surely did…when they were part Hart and part dramatist, probably.

Bill, for his part, imitated a fish out of water, stalked over to Harry and embraced his fifty-two year old son- whom had a good three inches on him at least- and shook approvingly where he stood. “Oh my boy, we couldn’t be more proud of you! You should have beat those little shits down into the ground where they belong! A rent boy, pah!” the man scoffed, a flurry of red-faced limbs that went over to embrace Eggsy next as he and his wife switched grown men.

“Mother, please, you’re embarrassing-” Mark started.

“I’m not the least bit embarrassed. I’m actually quite enjoying their support. Go on, then; what would you have done again, father?” Harry preened.

“You’re embarrassing _me_ ,” Mark elaborated dryly. “If I’d done anything of the sort-“

“Oh, you mean like when your jealousy got the better of you and you fought your best man in the alley for the woman you’re thinking of proposing to? How long ago was that, Mark?”

“Harry, you-“ Mark flustered, eyes darting between his parents, then to Eggsy in a fit of desperation.

“Oh, Mark! Finally!” Sharon crowed. And suddenly all the attention of Hurricane Hart and Darcy turned on their other child.

Harry leaned back into his seat, surveying Mark’s perturbed expression as he tried to fight both their parents off at once- a truly unheard of feat.

“Pretty proud o’yourself, aren’t ya?” Eggsy snorted, landing heavily to his side on the couch.

“Mhm,” he hummed contentedly, completely aware of Eggsy’s eyes on him.

“I’m glad to see you having fun, despite the fact that everyone- including you- keeps tellin’ me how you get pensive around your family.”

Harry looked over, their faces close enough to… well, to breathe each others air. “I’m hardly-”

“Harry, stop. This?” Eggsy motions out toward his bickering, laughing family as they yell and laugh at one another. “This is supposed to be what a family looks like. If you’re embarrassed, that’s kinda normal.”

“That’s not it… exactly.”

Eggsy remained silent.

“It’s not them that doesn’t fit. It’s… me. I’m that black sheep in the family, I suppose,” Harry relented quietly, looking back over at the tenacious crowd of three.

Eggsy suddenly chuckled, leaning heavily against Harry’s side and completely abolishing any and all personal boundaries a boss and employee, never mind a mentor and student, should have. “Christ, you’re dramatic. Just like your mum. And that righteous fury you get when you think someone is being unfair to another, that’s your dad. And that rare awkwardness you get when someone oneups you? That’s probably the bit of your brother that you’ve got.

“But that charming, eccentric gentleman that collects dead butterflies, stuffs his dead dog and is rather terrible at drawing- don’t think I haven’t seen those hidden beneath your paperwork, you covert doodler-… THAT is all Harry Hart.”

Harry was looking at Eggsy again, his hand at some point having crept over to grasp the younger man’s. “Eggsy…” 

That’s when the young man turned to him, eyes bright, smile sincere and said, “I think you fit in exactly where you were meant to.” 

And what felt like the next moment or hours later, Harry was pulling back, out of breath and blushing faintly as he whispered, “You fit here, too.” 

Eggsy nodded shallowly, eyes caught on Harry’s mouth as he started to lean forward again-

The whooping hollering is what stopped him and the two grown ass men jumped apart looking for all the world like they’d just had their first kiss. 

And they had, but Harry’s mother didn’t need to know that.

##  _The end._

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

**_BONUS!_ ** ****

“Bloody hell, finally,” Mark said, exasperated.

“Finally?” Sharon asked, blinking.

“That was the first time either of them have acknowledged each others feelings. At least, if Harry’s friend Merlin is to be trusted,” he commented offhandedly, a glint of mischief in his eyes if Harry wasn’t mistaken. Shit

“Mark-“ Harry tried.

“Their first- Wait, you mean, the two of you have never- You’re not in a relationship?” Sharon stated more than asked, slowly turning to Harry and Eggsy.

Eggsy looked down, declining to put himself between a rock and a hard place. He silently prayed that Harry would forgive him for abandoning him in his time of need.

Harry- on the other hand- would ever forgive Eggsy! This was a prime example, if ever there were one, of insubordination! Before Harry could say anything to entice the younger man to help him-for-the-love-of-God,-Eggsy!, his mother was bent over and at eye level with him.

“Bill,” she began, addressing her husband but keeping a steady eye on Harry. “Please tell me that I have this wrong. Our son- our Henry- didn’t come into our home, lie directly to our faces about being in a relationship with this young man and then has no common decency or manners for that matter to correct his error before I’ve already shown them to their shared bedroom?”

Bill hummed, as if sincerely thinking on the inquiry-statement. “I believe so, dear.” He munched on some chips while opening a can of beer, offering one to Mark who sat down next to his father to enjoy the show.

Bastards, Harry thought.

“You meant to deceive us into allowing you to stay in a room where this young man- this- this innocent boy would be put into a vulnerable position, all alone? With a beast like you?” she cried out, throwing an arm around Eggsy as the other draped over eyes to shield herself from such disgrace.

Eggsy laughed, clapping. Mrs. Hart actually was a rather good actress.

“Don’t humor her, Eggsy,” Harry hissed.  “And it’s not like that, you’re just being drama-”

“Drama, thy last name is Hart,” Mark lamented as he clinked his can of beer with his fathers.

“Rest in peace, Henry,” Bill added, tipping his can in mock salute.

Harry stared, tight mouthed and narrow eyed. “I’m going back to England,” he said before turning on a sharp heel.

The roaring laughter that followed him into the entryway did nothing but inflame his cheeks-

And might have made his lips quirk just the tiniest.

It was good to be _home_ , he thought as heard Eggsy’s jovial laugh following him. 

_[edited partially - 6/9/16 6a.]_

 

**Author's Note:**

> Edit 2/23/17 - now a part of a series!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! Come visit me on [tumblr](http://solarrift.tumblr.com/) and see my other manips and crack AUs!


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